


Phoenix Longings

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: D/Hr Advent 2019, F/M, Professor Hermione Granger, tree ornament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: Fate has it that there is only one phoenix ornament left. But where will it be on Christmas? With Hermione, within the Great Hall of Hogwarts? Or with Draco, sparkling from the branches of the tree in Malfoy Manor?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 40
Kudos: 155
Collections: D/Hr Advent 2019





	Phoenix Longings

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the D/Hr Advent 2019. I feel honoured because I got the chance to participate again. Thank you to the mods for organising this fest and also a giant thank you to those who nominated me! My prompt was "tree ornament."
> 
> My beta, niffizzle, is a miracle, and I am so, so thankful that I have her. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, this is a work of fiction, and I don't gain any profit from it.

**December, 12th**

When Hermione stormed into the ancient and probably most noble shop in an exclusive corner of Diagon Alley, she was more than a bit on edge. But, really, who expected her to be any different than any other teacher in December. Except probably for Snape, who was rumoured to brew a concoction containing a Calming Draught, whisky, and eggnog to get through the time before Christmas peacefully. 

To add to the school stress, Hermione was annoyed with herself beyond belief. She just had to have been so clumsy as to step on the box with the historical Christmas ornaments Minerva was so proud of because they had been in use for more than two centuries and had survived two wizarding wars. And the first Christmas the Headmistress had assigned her the very important task of decorating the giant tree in the Great Hall… well, let’s say, Hermione was already making plan B for her career, since Charms Professor wouldn’t be an option any longer when she fucked this up even more. 

Hit Wizard maybe? 

After all, they worked a lot undercover, so she wouldn’t be recognized as “The Witch Who Allegedly was so Bright but Clumsy Enough to Destroy Hogwarts’ Phoenix Ornament” all over Britain. 

Pushing her rampant thoughts aside, she focused on the task at hand: buying a new phoenix ornament from the only shop that traditionally produced them - not too many days before Christmas, ten minutes before their closing time. 

She shook the fresh snow from her clothes when she heard a tingling of the doorbell right behind her, signaling the entry of another customer. 

Said someone stormed past Hermione, grazing her person roughly in the process, without even stopping to shake off the snow. He — Hermione surmised it was a man from the wizard coat in fine, but warm dark grey wool — didn’t look right or left when he all but ran to the counter. 

It was pure instinct that told her to rush as well, and that instinct was validated when she heard the man drawling, “I need to know where the phoenix ornaments are stored.”

“Third aisle to the left. You’re lucky, there’s just one left, Mister-”

Hermione didn’t pause and hastened to the third aisle. She had to have it. She couldn’t fail.

And indeed, when she entered the row of shelves in question, there was just one of the ornaments left, sitting on a soft cushion and glittering in the light. 

Relieved, she exhaled forcefully. She would get it.

But just when she stretched out her hands to reach for the priceless, if very expensive, item, Hermione was surprised by a hand with elegant fingers, longing to get the phoenix.

After that, several things happened at once. 

She felt her fingers enclosing on the phoenix’ wings. 

Then there was warmth, coming from her adversary’s fingers, who closed around the bird’s beak. 

At the same time, she turned her head, preparing to give the person a good, effective scolding.

But then, everything fell from her face except for a hissed, “Hands off, Malfoy!” when she recognised the man next to her. 

His eyes widened for a second before he spat back, “Nice to see you again, Granger. But you have to take your fingers off this precious ornament. For this one is going to hang in Malfoy Manor in a few minutes.”

Usually, Hermione tried to have a tight grip on her tendencies to lash out at everyone standing in her way. But not now.

“You’re clearly mistaken. This is going to be levitated to the highest branches of the Christmas tree in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.”

“Malfoy Manor.”

“Hogwarts.”

“ _ Malfoy Manor _ .”

“ _ Hogwarts _ !”

There was a pause in which the two of them observed each other. 

Draco Malfoy had aged well, Hermione had to admit. The sharp angles of his face were now softened by laughing lines and an almost roguish dark blond stubble on his face. But he was still tall, aristocratic, and annoyingly handsome.

And he wanted the wrong tree ornament. 

“Excuse me, but I thought that for being the best school of wizardry and witchcraft that Hogwarts is, it would own more than one phoenix ornament for its Christmas tree.”

He still hadn’t let go of the phoenix. 

“You’re plainly wrong. You might not be entirely aware of it, but the last war destroyed quite a bit of the castle, and in the chaos of it all, there was only one phoenix left.” 

“That makes it one more than currently residing at Malfoy Manor, Granger.” 

They stared at each other, the ornament held between them by now. 

“I accidentally broke it,” Hermione finally murmured under her breath, still struggling to demonstrate responsibility for it, especially in the face of him.

“What was that?” A grin that could only be described as shit-eating showed on Malfoy’s face. 

“You heard me. I stumbled backwards and broke the ornament because I landed in the box with the historical stuff. While only one thing broke, it just had to be the most symbolic piece of the entire collection. Apparently, the phoenix is considered the most meaningful decoration this time of the year.” 

“Oh, and the Brightest Witch of Our Age didn’t know that and is close to throwing a fit now?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the comment, fully aware that it was a pretty immature thing to do. “No, I didn’t know that. Festive traditions were not my focus at university.” She took a moment to scrutinize him. “But wait, what about you? Your family has such a long, if shady, history, and there isn’t a phoenix ornament in the Manor?”

She could swear an embarrassed shade of pink unfolded on Malfoy’s cheeks. “There was. But it turns out that running after a toddler on a toy broom is detrimental for the interieur.”

“You stepped on it,” Hermione concluded with a small amount of spiteful glee. 

“More like stumbled over one of those devilish Lego bricks when dashing after Scorpius and then landed on the ornament.”

Hermione all but gasped. “Your son plays with Muggle toys?”

“Really, Granger? You think I haven’t changed one bit?” His sarcasm was more than prominent, but there was also an undertone of bitterness and disappointment. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she replied, defiant. “After all, the phoenix is the ultimate symbol of rebirth on the winter solstice and through the centuries of the Modern Times, there was a blending in of first the-”

“I get it!” he interrupted her with the hand that didn’t held the ornament. “You caught up on your homework, the good girl you are.” He had the audacity to wink at her. 

“Calling me ‘good girl’ and winking at me? You must be kidding.” She laughed, the hilarity of the situation creeping up to her. “Does it work with the women you are chatting up usually?”

Her former schoolmate was baffled. His smirk evaporated and was replaced by an honest, if awkward smile. “I’m a bit out of practice, but yes, it worked more often than not.” He shrugged his shoulders, and as much as Hermione’s soft side wanted to react on that boyish side of him, she didn’t allow it. 

“Nice try. I am taking the phoenix home nonetheless.”

“No, let me take it to the Manor. Please.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Hermione-”

“Nope,” she announced with a popping sound on the ‘p’. “Even the use of my first name won’t change it. This phoenix is going home to the cradle of the Order, and you and your big head won’t stop me.” Alright, maybe this situation brought the theatrical side of her forth. 

“Is there a problem between you and Mister Malfoy, Miss?”

The two of them turned around, startled by the sudden appearance of the shopkeeper. The elder man looked at her, questioning.

Hermione seized her chance, not remotely feeling bad when she relaxed her face and set it on ‘doe mode’ as Fleur had once dubbed it. 

“No, sir. Draco and I”— she cast a meaningful glance at the man mentioned—“just had a joyful quarrel between two old school chums, didn’t we?”

Draco glowered at her for a second before answering, “The lady always has the last word, doesn’t she?” Naturally, his manners wouldn’t allow him to claim the price. Knowing he had no other choice, he let go of the ornament.

“That’s good to hear, Miss. May I accompany you to the counter? We’re already past closing time, and I’d like to go home.”

“Of course. Have a merry Christmas, Draco.” 

“Likewise, Hermione,” he brought forth between gritted teeth. 

With a triumphant grin, Hermione took the phoenix ornament to the counter to pay for it, the jingling door bell signalling the departure of a resigned Draco Malfoy leaving only a tickling of her conscious for now. 

* * *

**December, 13th**

The feeling of elation didn’t stay for long.

“It really looks wonderful, Hermione.” Minerva stood next to her, and the two of them were looking up at the now decorated tree in the Great Hall. 

“Mhmm, very,” she replied, deep in thought. Somehow, the win tasted stale, empty.

“Did a hippogriff took a bath in your porridge today? Is something wrong?” her mentor asked, eyes remaining on the sparkling phoenix ornament high up in the fir. “You aren’t still brooding about destroying the last one, are you?”

“A bit,” Hermione admitted.

“Do you know how many things went wrong back in the days when I became a professor and Headmaster Dippet entrusted me with some important tasks? I can’t even count the times where I stood before him, head hung in shame, and confessed the sins I thought would get me fired.”

Despite the direness of her mood Hermione chuckled at Minerva’s words. Imagining a young Minerva was amusing in itself, but to think she did something clumsy was too funny.

“What did he do then?”

“Sat me down, laughed at me, and handed me biscuits and a whisky.”

“Same as you did with me,” Hermione concluded, now smiling. “I ran into Draco Malfoy when I went to purchase the phoenix ornament,” she suddenly said.

“Did you? The boy has had a difficult year, so I have heard. A divorce is still frowned upon in the Pureblood circles and even parts of the general wizarding society, especially with an infant child in the marriage. And it’s the first Christmas without his father, though his death probably was a relief.”

Minerva must have felt Hermione staring at her in surprise. “I like to keep tabs on my students, and your year was exceptional in more than one sense. Draco even sends me letters by owl once a month,” the Headmistress explained. 

Hermione’s heart began to plummet. She didn’t read the tabloids, nor did she keep up with the society gossip, just like most of her friends — Harry and Daphne had even evoked a conviction notice when they had begun dating earlier in the year. So she hadn’t known all these things about Draco until Minerva told her about them. 

It seemed like Draco didn’t have a good year, to say the least. Maybe that was why he put so much effort into the decoration of the tree, for the holiday should be perfect?

With one last glance up to the phoenix ornament shimmering in the candle light, she groaned, cursing her own moral codex, and bid goodbye to Minerva. 

She had a letter to write. 

* * *

**December, 14th**

The tree ornament had arrived by owl, carefully wrapped in padding and Cushioning Charms. And when the dawn set darkness upon the snowy landscape of Wiltshire, Draco lit the tree and levitated the phoenix up to its highest branches. 

Just as presumed, Scorpius was very excited about the whole affair. The little boy squealed and giggled and kept pointing at the colourful decoration. 

Draco could barely keep him on his hip as he wriggled gleefully. “Bird, Daddy!” Scorp repeated for the nth time, and Draco continued to nod and say, “Yes, Scorpius. That’s a bird. A special one.” 

“Why?” the toddler asked, as he did so often at the moment. 

“It is special because it is very pretty and brings luck,” Draco explained in words he hoped his son would understand. 

“Ooooh!” Scorpius nodded. “Good birdie!” 

“Yes, a very good bird indeed.” 

Then, the attention span of the boy had reached its limit, and Draco put him back to the floor where he dashed off to play, probably with this thrice damned invention that were lego bricks. Draco had endured more dark curses than he could count, but nothing had prepared him for the pain one felt when stepping on one of the plastic things. 

Knowing Scorpius was safely playing on the soft blanket nearby, his father looked at the impressive fir in the living room, focusing on the newly added phoenix ornament. As much as he had wanted it, finally having it didn’t feel as good as anticipated. 

When Scorp had been born, Draco promised himself he would be a better man, a better father than his own. He would try to be the father the boy deserved. 

And yet, he had failed too many times already. In some bigger things, like not making the marriage with Astoria work. Though, he was aware that it hadn’t been solely his fault, nor had it been Astoria’s. They had married too young, and when Scorpius came along years later, they both believed they would be happy within their arranged marriage. But… they simply weren’t. 

And even when the two of them had never been head over heels with each other, Draco missed his wife’s presence and company quite a lot.

Today, he had failed Scorpius again -- because when Hermione Granger had sent him the ornament, it was accompanied with a letter. In it, the witch explained that she heard that he hadn’t had the best of years and that he and Scorpius deserve a perfect tree for their first Christmas just the two of them. 

That alone wasn’t the thing that tasted bitter in Draco’s mouth - but he hadn’t bothered to correct the Hogwarts professor’s assumptions. In reality, Scorpius would spend the time between Christmas Eve and the New Year with his mother and her parents in France. And Draco had betrayed the most bleeding heart in the wizarding world. 

He didn’t even know why exactly. Maybe he really wanted to provide a truly perfect tree for Scorp, maybe he just wanted to win? Hermione Granger had always brought out his competitive side, and apparently that hadn’t changed with time. 

But keeping the phoenix in the Manor didn’t feel like the right thing to do, no matter how he turned it. His son — the motivation behind Granger’s actions — wouldn’t be with him on Christmas to see the tree. No one would be there. While, at the same time, there would be a giant tree in Hogwarts without a phoenix ornament. And a professor believing he made his little boy smile. 

With a deep sigh, he pulled his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa,” Draco spoke, clearly enunciated. He was quite capable with non-verbal and wandless magic, but the first spell they had learned always felt wrong when not spoken aloud. 

Knowing something would fly around, Scorpius turned towards his father in expectation. “Daddy, birdie flies!” 

“Exactly, Scorp.” Draco carefully levitated the phoenix into his hand. “And the bird is going to do another travel to Scotland, as it seems.” 

Scorpius only clapped his hands in excitement. Draco, on the other hand, felt his conscious being relieved. 

A few minutes later, the ornament left Malfoy Manor again, once more carefully wrapped. The owl carrying it also bore a letter, simply saying,  _ “I am sorry, you deserve this more than I do, _ ” and an expensive red wine as an apology gift. 

  
  


* * *

**December, 19th**

The time leading up to Christmas was also the period during which a lot of books were released. And this year, a new edition of Hermione’s favourite book was being celebrated with a party. Hoping for good press, the publisher had invited many people of public influence along with some reporters, and of course, Hermione. After all, she was known to be a critical, but also very fair reviewer of history books. 

She had just finished a conversation with a historian and enjoying a bit of champagne when she was addressed from the side. 

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” 

Malfoy. Impeccably dressed. Holding a glass of champagne.  **Not** her favourite person at the moment. 

“One doesn’t need Trelawney to make that prediction. You, on the other hand, are the true surprise.” 

“I own the entire collection of this books’ edition, right from the start,” he defended himself. 

“Maybe you could make them your reading project over the holidays,” she suggested with raised eyebrows. She could see his grip on his champagne flute tightening. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I had a very nice chat with Daphne over the phone two days ago.” Hermione wasn’t even lying - the two women were becoming friends, and Harry had instructed his girlfriend how to use a mobile phone. Before Draco could react, she explained, “I know Astoria will fetch your son from the Manor to spend the holidays with him and her parents, while she and Harry are going to celebrate at the Burrow. In other words, you and the phoenix decorated tree will be alone on Christmas,” she seethed, not even knowing exactly why she was so angry. 

His face had paled, and the grey eyes she had seen twinkling at her the last time they met had turned into cold stone. “Daphne is correct, though I am surprised she told you where she is going to be while I haven’t heard from her, my son’s godmother, since Easter.” 

There was a melancholic undertone in his voice that made her feel bad, but nevertheless, she wasn’t here for a pity party. 

“Sounds like a lonely Christmas if you ask me.” 

“Just like yours, right?” Draco fired back. “Staying in the castle, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a fact. 

With a gasp, Hermione realised he must know this because of his correspondence with Minerva. 

“Either you’re more self-sacrificing than I thought or you have nowhere else to go.” 

Just when the words left his mouth, she could see him frowning, as if they tasted bad. But the damage was done, and before she could think twice, Hermione had sloshed the rest of her champagne into Draco Malfoy’s face before turning on her heels and all but running away. She regretted it wasn’t red wine in her glass, but kind of relieved that they had had this spat in a quiet, dimly-lit corner of the room. Causing a print-worthy scene and landing on a newspaper’s front page wasn’t exactly on her wishlist this Christmas. 

Though, she couldn’t stop the angry tears falling from her eyes once she found a broom closet in some distance from the party guests. Self pity, she was aware. Because she really  _ had _ nowhere to go over Christmas, at least that’s what it felt like. 

With her parents having lost all memory of who she was, Hermione usually spent the holidays with the Weasleys. Unfortunately, while the relationship with Ron was now perfect in terms of friendship, she’d had a fall out with Ginny earlier in the year. 

The other woman had chosen to end her career to stay at home with her three young children while her husband Oliver Wood was still playing Quidditch successfully. Hermione had accused Ginny of wasting her talent at home when she had the power to be a role model for girls like the two of them had been. Ginny, on the other hand, had accused Hermione of being egoistic because she lived her life for no one but her own. 

The atmosphere between Hermione and Ginny had been icy from then on, and Harry and Ron had wisely refrained from meddling. All in all, it didn’t feel right for Hermione to spend Christmas at the Burrow, so she’d rather stay at home - Hogwarts. 

* * *

Draco was in about the same headspace. He had stepped outside to collect himself, the cold winter air helping him to re-erect his much needed emotional walls again. 

Granger —  _ Hermione _ — had torn a hole inside them with her piercing dark brown eyes and her sharp words. Draco thought she could bring down a kingdom with that tactic if she really wanted. 

He always knew that, but in the past, he had detested how she made him feel: not good enough, not brave enough, not smart enough. Mostly, she didn’t actively do anything to achieve that. 

Of course, Hermione Granger wasn’t the nicest witch on earth, but she had this unerring moral compass and the fiery passion, combined with the air of someone who didn’t care about what people thought about them. Thus, he didn’t expect her to be affected by their little spat, but that didn’t really matter. 

He growled, standing alone looking into the frozen landscape. His thoughts were turning in logical circles - the way he behaved wasn’t correct, even when Hermione wasn’t affected by it. 

Like so often in his life, Draco had put his desires and needs before those of others. He had wanted the ornament, and he hadn’t cared about how he got it at first. What a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets, his father had ingrained into him. Why was this part of Lucius’ training harder to let go than others? Maybe he hadn’t grown as much after the war as he made everyone, including himself, believe. 

Annoyed at himself beyond belief, Draco decided he needed a strong drink’s help to digest the ugly truth. 

Fate had it that the first person he saw when he stepped into the room again was Hermione Granger. 

She took his breath away. Not only because she was beautiful, because of course she was in her blush pink dress and her hair cascading down her back in its unruly way, but because the emotions were pouring off of her for anyone who dared a closer glance at the woman. 

Breathing in deeply, he walked in her direction, but not without ordering a glass of champagne and a whisky from the bar. He summoned all of his courage and squished his pride, but at last, he stood before her, offering her the champagne. 

“A peace offering? After all, you wasted your last one on my visage.” 

At first, she simply stared at his hand. Then, she brought forth, “Thank you, I suppose.” She lifted the beverage to her mouth and enjoyed a bit of it with closed eyes. “As nice as this is, I’d rather take the whisky. Spending years in a castle with a Scottish lady like Minerva McGonagall did that to me.” 

That comment broke the ice they had been walking on. Draco laughed, surprised at the woman’s dry humour. Suddenly a lot more relaxed, Draco smiled at the woman, just as she smiled at him. They needed to make an effort. 

“I am sorry,” they both said at the same time. Awkward chuckles followed, and he gestured for her to start. 

“I was quite mean when sharing Daphne’s information with you. And I shouldn’t make fun of you because you won’t get to spend Christmas with Scorpius.” 

He nodded, accepting her apology. “You were right, though. I dread the day when Astoria takes Scorpius away on the twenty-second. It’s just me and the Manor then. Without Scorp, my life is so empty and meaningless,” he admitted. 

“I am sorry,” she repeated, and he believed her. 

Then, it was his turn. “I have to apologise, too. It wasn’t fair to share what I know about how you are going to spend the holidays, especially the way I connotated it.” 

“Thank you,” she replied. “I am also dreading the day when the train is leaving and Hogwarts will be practically empty except for a few students who usually aren’t the happiest ones.” She seemed to want to share, so he gestured for her to continue. “Some have no one to go to, some aren’t welcome at home because of their ‘special talents’. Others even prefer the safety of the castle to their situations at home.”

“Is it like that every year?” he asked, seriously affected. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know, for it’s my first Christmas at Hogwarts as a professor. Harry says it wasn’t very different from when we were students, and I am trying my best to make it a good time for them. It’s not half bad when I think about it. Hogwarts is my home.” 

Draco swallowed a surge of emotion back down, covering them with a smirk. “Is that your next try to get the phoenix back?” 

She answered after thinking for a moment. “No. But I can say I understand why you need that symbol of hope in your life.” 

That sobered him up instantly. “I thought I had outgrown my arsehole tendencies, but apparently, I am wrong.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief when he said this and he almost smirked. “This should be a time of forgiving, and what are we making from it?” 

“So far? We’re doing our best to ruin it.” She clinked her glass against his and lifted it. “But there’s still a bit of time before Christmas.” With a smile that spoke of resolution and relief, she boldly removed the whisky tumbler from his hand and replaced it with her champagne flute. “It’s always darkest before dawn, isn’t it?” 

He nodded and toasted, “To a new day’s sunrise,  _ Hermione. _ ” 

“ _ Slainté _ , Draco.” 

Over the course of the evening, a lot of alcohol flowed. Whisky, because they both preferred it. Also, a lot of conversation was flowing. It wasn’t quite like a conversation between friends — but it was light years away from being adversaries. 

  
  


* * *

**December, 25th**

A few weeks ago, Hermione had expected to wake up on the twenty-fifth with a somewhat forced positivity. But instead, she awoke with a smile and the certainty of having a plan. 

Before breakfast, she sent one of the school owls flying over the frozen landscape. She sat down with the students for breakfast, smiling at them and cheering them up, and they smiled back, even if most wished they had a different holiday than the one they had in the castle. 

The meal hadn’t even ended when Draco Malfoy stumbled through the Floo and into the Great Hall. Not even taking his time to brush of the ash, he asked, “Where’s the accident? I swear, I—” 

Hermione started laughing loudly, because the sight of any Malfoy in this state of mild, but unsolicited panic was just hilarious. He even wore baby blue pyjamas with little Snitches on them! 

“What the f—” He caught himself when he realised he was looking into the wide eyes of students that were as astonished as he was. Hermione laughed even louder. 

“Good morning, Draco,” she greeted him. “Tea?” 

He complied without a word. When the students had left the table, he was nearly bouncing. “Out with it! Why did you tell me to come before it’s too late?” 

She smiled at him. “Well, I didn’t want you to miss breakfast!” 

“Why am I even here?” he rephrased with a desperate face. 

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone today.” 

He paused, his eyes soft. “Simple as that?” 

“Simple as that.” Hermione nodded and added, “That, and I talked to Daphne, called in a huge favour. She’s going to bring Scorpius here for an hour or two in the late afternoon.” 

Before she finished the sentence, Draco threw his arms around her. While it felt very nice to be held like this, it felt overwhelmingly new. He must have realised it too because he cleared his throat and stood. 

“I can’t express how much it means to me to see Scorpius today. That is the best present anyone could get me.” His voice was strained, and Hermione could see how affected he was. 

“But now excuse me for a bit, please,” he said and walked away, toward the Floo again. 

Only to return seventeen minutes later, dressed in slacks and a soft looking sweater and wearing a smile that was more than a bit mischievous. “It’s Christmas morning! Where are the students? It’s time to unwrap some presents!” 

Hermione was still sipping tea. “Did you hit your head in the Floo or something? The presents, if there are any at all, are usually unpacked in the common rooms.” 

“Not this year,” Draco stated with glee. “Come on, summon them.” 

For whatever reason, she did what he asked for and wove her wand. Then, Draco tugged on her hand and led her towards the tree in the corner. Hermione gasped. Under the tree, wrapped in colourful paper, was a pile of gifts, each one bearing the name of a student. The elves must have placed them there very quietly, for they surely hadn’t been there an hour ago.

“What—” 

“I called in a favour, too. Minerva had some good advice as what to get them.” His face turned somber. “Our encounters over the past weeks had me thinking. About loneliness. Family.” He looked at her with an intensity that took her breath away. “Forgiveness and new beginnings.” 

She squeezed his hand gently. “Same,” she admitted with a small voice. We should let the past burn, right?” With her free hand, Hermione pointed at the phoenix ornament hanging in the tree. 

“Right. Burn and start anew.” He squeezed her hand back. 

Several students piled into the room, squealing and laughing when they saw the presents. 

But for Hermione and Draco, still looking at the phoenix ornament, it was a moment of silence and peace. And the whispered promise of a connected future. 


End file.
